Swimming With Sharks
by Ephemeral Muse
Summary: She learned in her first life to always expect the unexpected. Still, reincarnation into the KHR universe -as Superbia Squalo's sister, no less- was hard to prepare for...Couldn't she have been reborn in any other family? She specialized in heists, not assassinations! Reincarnation-OC


**Swimming With Sharks**

A/N: I know, I'm terrible at being active on FF. But I'm trying to write a bit more, and this has been a plot-bunny stuck in my head for a while...maybe I'll even get around to updating my other fics (maybe pigs will also fly).

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 **Prologue**

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"We are all sharks circling, and waiting, for traces of blood to appear in the water."

-Alan Clark

 _._

* * *

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This is the story about a girl.

...

 ** **1985, December 1st.**** Viola Cheng was born in the midst of winter, in a private hospital situated a few blocks from the downtown riverside district in Shanghai. Later looking back, she'd probably cite this moment as the happiest she'd ever remember her parents being.

Not that they were elated by her birth—rather, quite the opposite. There was nothing more disappointing than the birth of a daughter when the complications of the pregnancy meant there would be no second chance. They wanted an heir and instead were stuck raising a mere __daughter.__

So no, there wasn't a happier moment for her parents than the mere moments before realizing her gender. After all, for her entire lifetime afterward, Viola had only associated her family with anger, bitterness, and _disappointment._

Mr. Cheng had, of course, a first name that he was born with. However, throughout Viola's life, she had only heard others refer to him as 'Mr. Cheng', 'Sir', or in her mother's case, ' _ _Il Marito__ '. Mr. Cheng was charismatic, excellent in negotiations and numbers, and incredibly hungry for _**more**_ **.** As both a person and a businessman, Mr. Cheng was Viola's first and only role model. He was everything she wanted to be, and she soaked in every lesson he was generous enough to teach.

Dissatisfaction. It was possibly the trait Viola admired the most in her father even more than his talent and wits: his relentless ambition, his endless greediness. It was awe-inspiring to see when this was directed at his work...but more often than not, Viola saw this dissatisfaction directed at her.

In China, a son was an heir, a family's future. In China, a daughter was just that...a child that would eventually be married off, without even her last name keeping ties to the family. A son was a father's pride, a daughter a father's disappointment.

Sometimes, Viola wasn't sure who was worse—her father or mother. While her father would occasionally check up on her or give a few lessons, he ignored her most of the time. Viola's mother, on the other hand, spent a bit too much time with Viola...but not in a 'loving mother' kind of way.

No, Matilda Uccello Cheng was many things—an Italian, a femme-fatale of a negotiator, an excellent translator—but a loving mother was not one of them. Frankly, Viola believed the only reason Matilda gave birth was due to Mr. Cheng's insistence for an heir. Still, Viola couldn't complain; she saw her mother at least twice as often as her father.

Matilda didn't consider Viola's gender important, but didn't consider Viola important either. Rather, Matilda believed that as a child who shared her own blood and flesh, Viola should be expected to excel at everything Matilda did.

And so from a young age, Viola was tutored personally by Matilda (who honestly shared more blood with the Spartans than the Italians, if her tutoring methods were anything to note). Just like her husband, Matilda had impossibly high standards. Most nights ended with Viola past her bedtime, struggling to keep up with the lessons her mother demanded, __required__ her to learn.

Her mother was a Spartan who spent hours drilling both languages and negotiation tactics into Viola's brain. Her father occasionally taught a lesson here and there, but mostly ignored her existence. Needless to say, Viola grew up rather jaded in personality...and with the nature of the family business, rather misled on the moral compass. After all, one did not move large amounts of money semi-legally, invest in corrupt companies, and earn millions off the misfortunes of other _countries_ with a normal conscience.

But, well, her father was not a normal man by any means.

And despite how he treated her, Viola wanted nothing more than his approval.

…

 ** **199**** ** **2**** ** **, June 21st.**** Viola was six when she learned just what exactly the family business _was._ To start, "family business" wasn't very accurate: both her parents had full-time occupations outside of the family. Her mother was an invaluable asset to the international trade corporation she worked for, an expert in negotiations between Italian and Chinese merchants. Her father, on the other hand, was a sharp investment banker at a renowned accounting firm.

As both were very successful in their own rights, the family business was more of a...common hobby shared between them and a few of Viola's uncles and cousins, she supposed. Though, as Viola would soon come to learn, hobby was an understatement.

It was a rainy Friday, and one of the rare moments where Viola and her father sat at the dinner table together. Mr. Cheng was skimming the Sunday paper to see if any stocks needed moving, scoffing at the news to himself.

"The Bund is full of _fàntǒng_ if it took them this long to find Old Li's bills in circulation; we must've dumped those in the banks at least a month ago...well, it means we got to lay low for the next couple of weeks on that side of business, I guess..."

Viola's ears perked up. She hadn't seen her father in ages, and was eager to have the chance to talk to him. "I didn't know Uncle Li and you worked together."

Mr. Cheng momentarily glanced at his daughter before his eyes flicked back towards the paper. Humming, he answered, "Not at the bank, no. I work with him sometimes at my side job, though."

"Ah, the one with Mama, right? The fun job that earns a lot of money!"

At that, Mr. Cheng paused at reading the paper and raised an eyebrow at her. Pausing briefly, he pursed his lips and studied his child for perhaps the first time.

"Hmm...do you like money, Viola?"

Viola frowned for a second. Hmm, money, huh? She didn't even really know what money was _for_ , but she did know it was important.

A while ago, as she watched her mom count bills late at night, Viola had asked her Mama how much they needed. Matilda had laughed and answered, "You can't have _enough_ money, silly Viola. There's nothing in the world you can't buy with money."

"My teacher said you can't buy happiness in class yesterday." Matilda had tsk'ed, mentally noting to switch her daughter from the detestable public elementary school.

"Your teacher is an idiot. Money can buy anything, _especially_ happiness."

So when Mr. Cheng asked her if she liked money, Viola didn't have to think too long at all. The truth was, she didn't give a damn about money. She didn't really care about sweets or toys. But if money could make her parents happy...if money could make her parents _proud_ _of her..._

"Yeah, I like it a lot. I want to have a lot of it, more than even Papa!"

Mr. Cheng studied his daughter's face. It was strange; although she shared his blood, she was a far cry from him. He was strong and intimidating, the type of man who sent chills down the spine with his laughter. But Viola, Viola was weak...Viola was a _girl._ That was what he always thought.

But as he stared into his daughter's hungry, almost shark-like eyes, Mr. Cheng felt as if he was looking into a mirror.

And he knew that, girl or not, Viola was his child.

After a moment, he cracked a crooked smile, as if laughing at an inside joke. "Well, that's good. We're in the business of money, after all."

Viola had to blink a few times to process what he said, dazzled and slightly shocked at the smile she saw. Had she even seen her father smile before?

"But what does that __mean,__ Papa?"

Mr. Cheng sighed, finally setting the newspaper aside. For a second, Viola worried that she once again disappointed her father in her ignorance...but he leaned forward so that he was closer to eye-level with the young Viola, and looked at her square in the eyes.

"Remember this, Viola. In this world, there are people who make things. There are people who sell things. And then...there's us. All those people put in a lot of time into their jobs, just like us, but they're different. They're poor, they're stupid, and no matter what they do, they'll never climb higher. Not the way they want to—they'll get cut down sooner rather than later. But we're different." Viola nodded adamantly, elated that he said __we__.

"We get the best of every deal, and nobody will be the wiser because we keep our hands clean. Do you know what they call us?"

Viola frowned then, in thought. It was rare for her father to give her so much attention after all; she didn't want to screw this up. "Smart?"

Mr. Cheng chuckled then. He had a laugh that made the hair of your neck stand up despite how harmless it seemed, the laugh of a true predator. And it was the most beautiful thing Viola ever heard. "There's various names for us-con-artists, scammers, thieves, scoundrels..." His eyes had a predatory gleam, and Viola couldn't help but feel proud that she shared the blood of such a ferocious man.

"I think it's the easiest to think of us as the intermediary though. The bridge, you could say, between rich idiotic clients and institutions that need to be knocked down a peg or two."

Viola's eyebrows scrunched a bit in confusion; after all, her father used a lot of big words the first-grader never learned. Her father sighed and continued, "Well, I don't expect someone like you to understand anything I say in the first place, so just keep this in mind."

"You may choose to continue the family business, or you may not. I don't particularly care what you do, but remember this. The middle man is the one that gets the best cut, the one that gets away scotch-free when things go south. You may be a girl, but you are a child of this household, so do not make the mistake of fools and lower yourself to their level."

He picked back up his newspaper with a sardonic grin. "We're also the most hated, but if you are truly my child, then you will soon learn that failures tend to despise success. So if you find yourself with many enemies, know that you're doing something right."

…

 ** **199**** ** **9**** ** **,**** ** **December 31**** ** **th.**** A turn of the millennium, they said. A once of a lifetime event, they said. Viola personally scoffed at such commentary; really, the difference between December 31st of 1999 and January 1st of 2000 was just a day. But well, the commoners could spend their time awestruck for all she cared. It made her job just that much easier, after all.

"If Life is so kind as to give you lemons, you better make sure you steal everything else in Life's pockets too". Viola didn't really get what her mother meant at first, but at the age of 14 and a frightfully good thief, she finally started to understand Matilda's words.

This world ran on a system, and this system had rules. People played by these rules: they did their job, they got paid for the work, they did what they were told. They played the best they could with the cards they were dealt.

But didn't mean Viola had to do the same. Viola was part of the Cheng family, and that meant that when the cards Life gave her turned out bad, she didn't have to play with those. No, Viola could break the rules...so long as she didn't get caught.

She would learn to be just as aggressive as her father, just as manipulative as her mother. Viola grew to be equal parts fierce and vindictive. No matter what, she swore, she'd surprise them and make them proud.

The Bund was full of people during the holiday season, and it was a physical feat in itself to get across the large street. All throughout, Viola kept bumping and pushing against grouchy salary-men and love-struck couples.

"Hey kid, watch where you're going! Your mom didn't teach you manners or anything?" A middle-aged man yelled at her. Viola couldn't blame him, really—you had to be particularly unlucky to be stuck working on New Year's Eve.

"S-sorry! I'm so sorry," Viola stammered, keeping her head down like the meek girl she was expected to be.

"Hmph, rats like you better learn some manners soon before you find yourself thrown in the river!"

The man grumbled and stomped away, leaving Viola glaring at his back. Fishing out the man's wallet from her coat pocket, she cursed at the man as she counted the bills. China had been a poor country until recent years, and still ran mostly on cash. Unlucky for Viola's second cousin Xiaming, who needed a fresh stash of credit cards to crack into the Shanghai Visa branch...but rather lucky for Viola, who was practicing pick-pocketing.

"My oh my, Mr. Hong...you're quite the wealthy fellow," Viola murmured, eyes lighting up at the gold plated card in the wallet. The wallet's genuine leather and copious bills would've made the theft worth it in the first place (if not just to spite the fool), but the Visa card was an amazing find. After all, Xiaming was a genius at safe-cracking...a bargaining chip was all she needed to set her heist in motion.

Her mood suddenly lighter, Viola started to hum as she made her way home. Maybe this time, her father would be satisfied?

…

 **2000, February 4th.** The cold February winds did little to deter the festive mood. Chinese New Year was one of the biggest holidays, after all. Many offices closed today to give families time to prepare for the celebration.

Viola, too, was making preparations. Or rather, she had _been_ making preparations for the past two months or so with Xiaming, dragged into her plans since that fateful Visa card on New Year's Eve. Though he had initially grumbled about the pains of pulling a heist with _girl_ four years younger _,_ even he could admit she was sharp.

Xiaming wasn't surprised, though. Uncle Cheng was a monster, and he heard some scary things about Aunt Matilda single-handedly destroying a smuggling gig because they didn't pay her proper respects. He shuddered thinking back to the news—for all the Italians spoke of Omerta, Matilda had no problems leaving the gang at the police's doorstep. So really, Xiaming shouldn't expect any less from the child of those demons.

He scratched his head as he squinted through his binoculars. The target was three buildings away, a nondescript office building. Security tended to be lax on the eve of Chinese New Year; even among thieves, it was a bit of a taboo to work on this particular holiday.

Guess it wasn't taboo for them, though.

"Hey, squirt." Viola twitched at the name, but didn't look up from studying the blueprints. Rolling his eyes, Xiaming continued talking.

"Where the hell did you get the blueprints for an accounting firm, anyway?"

"Ah... I stole it."

"...what? Isn't this your _dad's_ company?"

Viola hummed for a second, and it was Xiaming's turn to twitch in annoyance. It was true that the Visa was a platinum card that was immensely hard to find in China, but Xiaming was starting to think he could've just tried to find it himself.

"I stole it," Viola repeated, smiling. "Along with this, in case you needed it."

Xiaming fumbled with the large black toolbox that Viola threw at him. Throwing her a dark look, he nonetheless opened that toolbox. Inside was a...gas canister?

He frowned as he took it out of the box. There were also a couple of hoses and cables, an air compressor, and a thin metal pipe. 'Wait, not a pipe,' Xiaming realized as his eyes grew wider with the realization.

"Is this—you stole a fucking _thermal lance?_ _"_

Viola's smile grew into laughter at Xiaming's shocked expression. Thermal lances were hard to even _see_ in China, much less steal. He would know—he had been looking to add one to his safe-breaking kit for almost a year.

"The smuggling company that Mama caught two weeks ago, remember? They had some cool stuff in their shipments."

The drug smugglers who thought they could get away with using the ports without Matilda's blessing, Xiaming realized. That made...a surprisingly lot of a sense, he supposed. But still, for Matilda to give them something this rare, daughter or not...

"Oh, I don't think Mama knows I took this. Actually, she might not know they had it in the first place, she was kind of busy with the ringleader and stuff."

Xiaming had barely managed to calm down from the previous scare, but he was damn well about to faint when he heard that. He dragged his hands down his face, and cursed the day he got involved with probably the most psychotic branch of the family.

"You're insane, you know that? Your mom's gonna kill you. No, forget that, she's gonna kill _me."_ he groaned, to Viola's amusement.

It wasn't as if he couldn't see what Viola was trying to do. Stealing blueprints from her father and tools from her mother... Xiaming didn't know what sort of beef she had with her parents, but it was clear as day that it was a personal job. Xiaming _hated_ personal jobs.

Still, couldn't blame her. It was hard gaining respect as a pickpocket, when people there were art forgers and money launderers in the family. It was harder still, as a girl.

"Let's just get going, already. Time to see if these lances really break safes as well as they say."

It would have been a great message to her parents, Viola would later muse. A great way to one-up them, to prove at last that she too deserved the family name. To prove that the lessons from her parents and her uncles were not useless.

It was too bad the plan failed.

…

 **2000, February 6th.** Xiaming flung his arms in the air, groaning for the tenth time about how his dad was never going to let him hear the end of this. In contrast, Viola sat quietly in her corner of the temporary cell. She watched as various people walked in and out of the police office from within the jail bars, their voices a drone in the back of her mind.

In China, juvenile criminals were not punished by the court. Instead, their guardians are ordered to discipline them appropriately. The only reason she was in the cell was to wait for her parents, really. While Xiaming might suffer from jail for a couple days before his dad bailed him out, Viola was just barely young enough to fall under her parents' jurisdiction.

Which was even more terrifying, if she was to be honest.

Still, it's been two days since they failed to break the safe of the East Pacific Holdings, LLC office...since Viola made the critical error of not preparing more than a single get-away route. She had been cocky, she knew. It was a miracle that Xiaming didn't blame her more—or perhaps, he didn't expect any better from a girl?

Bitterness bubbled inside her, and Viola instead focused on the patrol officer in charge of calling her parents for the 10th time since he caught them. After hanging up the phone yet again, he walked to their cell with a paper in his hand, frowning.

"You said your name was Viola Cheng?" he asked. Viola glanced at his name-tag before answering.

"Yes, Officer Chu. Did my parents not pick up?"

His frown furrowed more at her question, and he glanced down at the papers again. "That's the thing...someone named Mr. Cheng did pick up, but he said he didn't have a daughter?"

Viola's stomach dropped at those words, her heart beating quicker when she thought of the implications. "That can't be true...are you sure you looked up the proper Cheng household?"

"You said your mother's name was Matilda Cheng, right? Middle name's Uccello?" He handed her the papers through the jail bars. They were family register papers, Viola realized as the sinking feeling in her stomach started to make her sick.

"As you can see, it says they don't have any kids."

That was...both true and untrue. Her head pounding, she re-read the papers yet again. There was no doubt that the papers said Matilda Uccello Cheng (35 years old) and Lixing Cheng (37 years old) were married without any children, but...

There. On the bottom corner, Viola could see a tiny mark. Three commas in a triangular design, small enough to be mistaken as ink blots next to her father's signature. It was the mark of Xiaming's father, Viola realized...Xiaming's father, who specialized in forging official documents.

The jail cell blurred as Viola trembled, nausea and disbelief causing her vision to swim.

"M'am? The papers, please."

Viola didn't even realize she was clenching the documents until she looked down at the crumpled papers. Wordlessly, she passed them back to him without looking up.

"If we can't find your parents by the end of the week, you'll have be registered as an unaccompanied minor. Which means you'll go through the government's disciplinary system, and..." the words droned out in her head as she slowly processed everything that happened.

Xiaming's father had forged those documents...but he only made his signature mark on commissions. Which means that someone paid him to do it. Who, though? Who would pay him to delete Viola from the...family...register...

" _The difference between failing and dying is the difference between a cow on a farm and a slab of meat."_

That was what her mom had said, wasn't it? Viola knew those words, and yet...and yet.

Xiaming was going to be bailed out of jail in a few days.

Xiaming, who had failed before without punishment, and will fail again in the future countless times.

Xiaming, whose father forged those documents and _erased her existence._

Xiaming, who was a **_boy_.**

"Jeez, did they call the wrong house or something?" Viola could vaguely hear his voice, but it was muffled. She could vaguely feel something wet in her clenched fists along with a dulled pain, but she didn't pay attention. All she could think of was how unfair everything was.

It was not fair

it was **not fair**

 _not fair_

NOTFAIR _ **NOTFAIR**_ **why HIM** WHY HIM _ **WHY HIM**_

Viola could vaguely hear screaming, an almost inhuman shriek, but wasn't sure who it was from. Her hands were no longer clenched within themselves, but instead ripping someone's skin. Muffled shouting from the police officers, a head being banged against the metal bars, her nails clawing flesh as her ribs ached from being kicked against.

She wasn't sure what was happening, but her eyes wouldn't stop staring into her cousin's. Crazed, dark brown pupils filled with fear and shock. _It wasn't fair_ , the mantra kept repeating in Viola's head. Why was he scared? He was going to be fine, he had a family, he was loved. His eyes had no right to have those feelings, his eyes had _**no right-**_

A shrill scream filled the air even as the police roughly pulled Viola away and against the floor. Her hands pressed against the cement, staining it with Xiaming's blood. On the other side of the prison, Xiaming curled within himself in pain. His hands desperately covered where his eyes used to be, as he screamed in pain.

"MY EYES! **MY** **EYES!** _"_

"Somebody call the paramedics-"

"SHE TORE MY **EYES OUT!** _"_

"Get me the baton, she's a psycho!"

A dull pain hit her in the neck, and soon her vision darkened. Before she completely fell unconscious though, an idle thought passed her mind: was she going to die?

Oh, who was she kidding. Viola Cheng was already dead.

…

 **2005, November 15th.** Viola sat opposite a panel of admission counselors, her legs neatly crossed. The mahogany furniture complemented the room's gold tones and the chandelier cast a warm glow. The three counselors shuffled their documents and skimmed the papers in front of them, no doubt reviewing Viola's history.

Well, what they assumed to be her history at any rate. Viola had improved her forgery skills in the past five years. There was very little to do in the foster care system, to be frank.

"Thank you for taking the time to come here, Miss Viola Wang" the man sitting in the far right started. "We at Peking University are pleased that you would like to further your education here."

Viola blushed, dipping her head. _Pinfei Lu, age 47. Graduated from Peking University at the age of 21 with cum laude in Business, came back a few years later to get his law degree. He practiced criminal law for 15 years before coming back to his alma mater._

If her information was correct, he would be the one needing convincing the most. After all, her little...incident five years ago made quite a scene. Even if she changed most of her records and paid good money to have the rest fixed by an expert, she was wary of anyone in the criminal justice system.

"The pleasure is all mine," Viola replied softly. "It would be an honor to study here."

"That's what we like to hear," laughed the middle interviewer, a middle-aged woman. _Linghua Peng, age 40. Not really important; she's been working in human resources her entire life._ "To start, tell us— why Law?"

"I grew up in the foster care system," Viola glanced at the panel demurely. "It was...an enlightening experience, and I saw a lot of things I'd like to change. I want to make things better for future orphans like me, so..." She bit her lip slightly.

'Hook, line, and sinker,'she thought to herself as she watched the adults bend and waver in sympathy. It didn't matter what she really said—they wouldn't keep tabs on her once she got in.

Viola had no intention of studying civil law like she implied...no, criminal law would be her focus. But it wasn't simply for revenge at that point, if she were to be honest. Rather, she thought it was a healthy dose of ironic humor. Who would guess, a champion of justice by day and a con-artist by night?

And, well, if she managed throw a few of her...former guardians in jail, it would be the cherry on top.

Viola Wang. Wang, "to rule"-that was the heart of it, wasn't it? The new surname that she had picked for herself.

Viola Cheng was a slave to her family's expectations. She had done everything and anything for them, she had thrown herself into their life of crime for _them._ And then they killed her.

But then Viola Wang was born in her place. Viola Wang was different. Viola Wang was a queen...she didn't steal for her parents. She stole for herself, because it was fun, because it proved to _herself_ that she was strong.

Matilda had been right when she said that money could buy happiness.

And this time, Viola Wang would buy happiness for _herself._

 _..._

 **2009, January 3** **rd** **,** **4:30pm.** Most places suffered from winter chills and heavy snows during this time of year—wasn't there just a freak blizzard off the east coast a week or two ago? Viola recalled seeing something about it in the Wall Street Journal, though it was more in exasperation at non-finance news making it to the front pages yet again. There was a time where the WSJ was a respectable source of information—the only source of information she needed. Alas, the mighty profession of journalism had fallen.

Point being, she mused in the back of her mind as she scanned rows upon rows of data spreadsheets, even the weather encouraged her to stay in the sunny pocket of California as near everywhere else was stuck in a polar limbo. Yes, she idly nodded to herself while setting up her other laptop to live-update the current charts of the National Index stock, it was due to the weather that she was regrettably missing her graduation class's New Year's party back in Shanghai.

It just so happened that at the same time, Viola had set her eyes on a particular stock. And she may as well close a multi-million dollar deal while she was _ever so unfortunately_ stuck in the __terribly__ mild-mannered _,_ _ _horribly__ sunny California climate, right? _Right._

Don't use a stone to kill two birds when you can use it to kill three. There Viola was, avoiding her social obligations, enjoying warm climate in the middle of winter, _ _and__ about to earn another 1.5 million to her name. My, Richard would be proud of her.

A small beep from her smartphone jolted Viola out of negative thoughts, and immediately her eyes lit up as she clacked away on her keyboard. ' _Speak of the devil and he shall appear,_ _'_ was that how the saying went? Viola grinned in anticipation as she clicked the "submit" button.

Her day job as a lawyer was great and all, but the fun came from moments like this. Quite honestly, Viola had underestimated how...boring it was, to live a straight life. It only took a year in college before she started to scheme again.

At least it introduced her to the closest thing she had to a friend. Richard was...an interesting fellow, Viola thought as she sent him a quick reply.

' _Secured; prolly 4.5 mil after Apple announces iPhone'_

She wasn't sure just _why_ Richard was so adamant on sticking with her ever since he caught her replacing a Monet with a fake. Viola had wanted to try her hand at art thievery—after all, her forgeries needed practice to stay in shape. While she did account for the mansion's inhabitants, she didn't exactly expect someone else breaking in as well.

Richard wasn't a thief, persay. He was just a journalist...one who didn't mind bending the law a bit to get a good story. He could have called the cops on her, but Viola would've pinned the blame on him anyway. So instead, Richard demanded a business card from Viola.

And now Richard was her...assistant, Viola supposed. He insisted on following her on every job, learning and helping. Viola rarely complained. Richard was an useful asset—this stock deal alone proved how smoothly jobs could be with an informant at her side.

Viola had more trouble admitting how well he knew her as a _person_ though. Informants were so god-damn nosy.

' _15 min away :)'_

Less than five minutes later, Viola's doorbell rang. She rolled her eyes as Richard entered the penthouse, not bothering to get up.

"What's the point of ringing the doorbell if you have my key? Also, you're 12 minutes early."

Richard laughed, setting his bags down. Instant food, she noted dully. Out of all the useful skills the two had, cooking was something that eluded the both of them. Never mind the fact that they've stolen diamonds, they'd still come home to instant noodles and chips.

Cracking open a beer and tossing Viola a can of coffee, Richard grabbed a seat next to her. "So, the Jobs deal..."

"35% cut," Viola waved her hand dismissively. "Don't try to argue, you'll lose."

Richard whistled. "That's 5% more than usual!"

"You _did_ spy on Apple for a month to get that info."

"Are you going soft on me?"

Viola rolled her eyes, throwing a pillow at him. "Hardly, I can't think of anything I need with two million dollars anyway."

At that, Richard frowned. He dropped the pillow in his hand, and his eyes narrowed at Viola in thought. "You never know what to do with the money, Viola."

Viola hnn'ed, draping herself across the office chair as she stared back in boredom.

"That's because I don't have anything I need, Richie."

"Why do you need the money, then?"

"I don't _need_ the money," Viola frowned at him. Haven't they gone over this, before? "I just _like_ having it-"

"Do you even _have_ anything you want? Any end-game?"

And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? In the beginning, Viola wanted to be rich for her parents. And then they screwed her over, and Viola started to steal as a twisted form of revenge, a way to show up her former family after they dumped her. But the money didn't mean anything to her, nor the Monet and the diamonds.

Viola didn't want to admit it, but she didn't have a goal. Happiness, that was her original plan—but what did that even _mean?_ Her wealth sat in seven different banks, and though she used to gain a sense of pride seeing the numbers...

The truth was, Viola was _bored_ **.** She had considered tracking down her family or stealing from them, but having anything to do with them left a bad taste in Viola's mouth. So what if she was a coward? Instead, she turned to the thrill of the heist...but sometimes, that wasn't enough.

"I like books," Viola defended. Her voice sounded weak even to her. "They cost a lot, you know. I'm sure my collection could probably sell for thousands at this point." It was true. In the effort to combat her boredom, Viola had turned to reading everything and anything she could get her hands on. From romance novels to thrillers, comics to self-help books, even medical texts...and if there was a rare copy nearby, Viola couldn't help but steal that too. In fact, she was sure there was a first-edition copy of _La Petit Prince_ laying around somewhere...

Richard, however, crossed his arms as he raised an eyebrow. "You don't read a book twice, ever," he deadpanned. "Do you even _know_ where that Little Prince book went? We just stole it a week ago."

Well, touche. But Viola was done with questions she had no answers to, and instead grabbed the keys from her desk.

"Is an end-game even necessary?" Viola asked, more towards herself than Richard. "Why can't I just steal for the sake of stealing?"

Not giving him time to answer, she stood and made her way to the door. "Come on, I'm sick of instant noodles. Let's use a bit of that two million, and treat ourselves."

….

 **2009, January 3** **rd** **,** **6:14pm.** The California sun beat down against the pavement, and the only indication of winter was the faint Christmas music playing in every store. At that moment however, the Christmas music was being drowned out by the sound of sirens.

It had happened so fast.

Voices of concern and ambulance sirens buzzed in the background, and Viola had an odd sense of déjà vu. The last time she felt so disconnected from her surroundings...had it been a decade since? She wondered how Xiaming was. Could he still work, now that he was blind? Did he hate her? She didn't really care either way.

The taste of copper in her mouth brought Viola back to reality. She instantly regretted it. Everything _hurt_ **.** Were those glass shards embedded in her arm? She tried to turn her head to see if Richard was okay, but her body wouldn't listen.

Was she going to die?

Once again, the wave of déjà vu hit her. That's right, she had wondered the same thing in that jail cell. She had something to live for back then, didn't she? Her anger...but she didn't have much of that anymore. Maybe that's what kept her fueled for so long, when she was bored out of her mind.

A funny thought passed her mind, and Viola couldn't help but smile despite how painful it was. Death by car accident, huh? How terribly...normal. Maybe she had read too many crime stories, but she always expected her death to be more grand. Maybe something like Xiaming hiring an assassin for revenge? Or a shootout, where she died in a burst of flames!

Yeah, she definitely read too many comics during her spare time. Ah, man, everything hurt. Perhaps this was karma, though—surely dying in a shootout would be quicker than this? A boring _and_ painful death, how disappointing.

" _This is paramedics unit 982, requesting backup at the intersection of 9th and Olive! Car accident, we have two men dead, and a woman seriously injured! She needs..."_

Viola could barely make out the words among the chaotic noise. Everything seemed so muffled to her...So Richard didn't make it, huh? It was upsetting. Surely he deserved to live more than her.

'Seriously injured', they said. But not fatally. Huh, maybe her chances were better than she thought. A sharp pain against Viola's chest jolted her out of her reverie yet again, and Viola could hear the paramedics cursing as they lifted her onto a stretcher. Ah, perhaps something broke.

" _Shit, it looks like a rib punctured the victim's left lung! Hurry and begin the emergency procedure."_

Was she going to die, after all?

" _We're losing her, get the defibrillator!"_

What a silly question.

" _3, 2, 1, go!"_

After all, everyone dies, don't they?

" _Again!"_

This was different from last time.

" _It's not working!"_

Ah, she really did wish Xiaming would've just hired a shooter or something.

It would've been a pretty cool way to go, huh?

….

 _Viola Wang_

 _Born on 1985, December 10 as Viola Cheng_

 _Passed away on 2009, January 3 from collapsed lungs, multiple bone fractures, and excess loss of blood._

...

And so, Viola's tale ends—but this is not a story about her.

This is the story about a girl— a tale that begins not with Viola's birth, but with her death.

This is the story of **Superbia Victoire**.

.

* * *

 _._

 ** _11/15/2015:_** Oops, didn't notice how many typos and missing lines I had when I uploaded this. Guess that teaches me to upload at 4 AM, huh? Made all necessary edits, please comment if there's something I didn't catch!

 **Story Notes:**

-The Bund was the main finance district in Shanghai prior to the 2000s, the Chinese equivalent of Wall Street

-I was inspired to write an OC fic after reading "How To Fish For Clouds" by Rejar and "Russian Roulette" by Vixen Tail. As such, there might be an influence—however, these similarities are limited to Viola's past and future occupations. Even then, I plan to put my own spin on both the thief and informant occupations, so I don't plan to rip off any part of these two stories (I do, however, highly recommend them to anyone interested in reading great OC fiction!)

-Viola is obviously not from a normal family. Aside from Tsuna, who's obviously ridiculously stacked as a Shonen Main Protag (TM), I wouldn't expect a normal person to survive in the world of KHR or deal with it well at all...I'd personally probably go insane if I saw bombs at my school, prior warning or not.

-Re: my surname choice, Superbia Squalo's surname will be ****Superbia**** for multiple reasons **:** Firstly, while Dino Cavallone and other Italians were introduced with a (first name, last name) format, the Italians are all referred to by their first names. In fact, it's quite rare for foreigners to be referred to by their surname in Japanese culture. However, Squalo's constantly referred to by everyone as simply **Squalo-** even Dino, who's a close friend!

-Secondly, I'm guessing Amano Akira's insistence on naming the Varia members after the sins is the only reason why Squalo's surname was revealed at all. Squalo's full name reads as "Arrogant Shark", which wouldn't make as much sense when flipped.

-Finally, Squalo names all his moves after himself. I suppose you could make the argument that he named them after his house, the same way Dino has a horse box-weapon and Tsuna has the Vongola Cloak. But Squalo doesn't particularly strike me as the type to have much pride in his family-if he did, wouldn't he be loyal to the Squalo Family rather than join the Varia?

That's all! Suffering from a bit of writer's block in chapter 2, but would love to hear any thoughts in reviews!

Till next time,

Muse.


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